Not Just Like the Rolling Stones

by Phil Goldstein | North Forty News

I just finished reading the latest book about the Rolling Stones, the oft-proclaimed World’s Greatest Rock and Roll band. I wouldn’t disagree with that designation based on artistry, if not longevity. The band formed in 1962 and, minus members who’ve quit or died, is still going strong, belieing both age and decadent lifestyles. I’ve seen the Stones in concert three times.

I’d been a music fan all my adolescent and adult life and harbored a desire to play the drums since I was ten years old. Unfortunately, the closest I came until eight years ago was the high-end audio system I purchased after getting my first post-college job, which cost almost as much as my first house. But I finally fulfilled that childhood goal when neighbor friends with a basement band needed a drummer and coaxed me into buying a basic kit and taking lessons.

After my friends moved away I foundered for a while, almost giving it up before introducing myself to a group of three guitarists playing in a local brewery. They professed to needing a drummer and called me for an audition, which I embarrassingly failed. But they came calling again a year later following a referral from the studio where I had enrolled for remedial training.

Three years later, our band is GreyRoc, a wordplay on the iconic Poudre Canyon hiking trail and our ages, which closely match the members’ ages of that other greatest rock and roll band. Since joining the band I’ve upgraded my drum kit twice and converted an unused room in the basement to a practice and performance studio where we gather weekly, often playing for any friends who drop by.

Meanwhile, other than the age similarities and playing the same blues-based rock music (and some country), we have little in common with the Rolling Stones, specifically:

Unlike the original members of the Stones who picked up their respective instruments as teenagers hoping to facilitate meeting girls, our band members all picked up their respective instruments about the time Mick, Keith, Ronnie, et al, picked their fourth or fifth wives.

The members of the Rolling Stones reportedly engaged in some girlfriend swapping, which predictably caused issues when said swappees attended practices. There’s fortunately been no such tomfoolery amongst our group members. And not only are none of the other guys’ spouses eager to sit through practices, but my wife Amy always leaves the house before the tunes start for some reason.

Unlike the Stones, we’ve never had a band member miss practice because of alcohol or drug abuse. However, we have had a band member (me) miss practices because of pickleball injury surgeries (two).

We’ve never had a recording contract, unless you count friends who drop by practices and use their phone’s video to keep our other friends amused by my attempts at senior rocker-hood.

And we’ve no agent either; I booked our sole paying gig to date, at a senior living facility—the residents loved the oldies we played—and we got paid in Cracker Barrel gift cards. I guess the management figured we weren’t the Hard Rock Café types. 

We’ve never had any roadies either, always transporting our instruments and amplifiers ourselves. The one time I had any help at all moving my extensive kit after a show, the well-meaning but tipsy bystander dropped and broke one of my components.

Stones guitarist Keith Richards is not known as much of a singer, but the band nevertheless obliges him with at least one song every show. I’m an even worse singer, but my band insists I join the bass player in background singing since we’ve no GreyRoc-ettes to oblige. So far that experiment hasn’t left my basement… and probably never will.

We don’t smash guitars during or wreck hotel rooms after a performance like some bands, although I’m constantly reminding the guys not to bang their equipment on the woodwork as they’re coming and going to the studio.

And unlike apparently all rockers, we don’t consume anything stronger than iced tea and ibuprofen while playing. I can’t coordinate both hands and both feet—as one does while drumming—if I’ve even stayed up past eight o’clock the night before.  

Finally, also unlike the Stones, we’ve had no deaths at our performances, as they did at the infamous Altamont concert. But we did have a complaint from my development’s HOA about our version of “Stairway to Heaven” when we played once on our back patio for some friends. I guess there’s no accounting for artistic tastes.

Rock on… and contact me to book GreyRoc for your next baby shower.

Phil Goldstein is in his fifth year writing Tales from Timnath for North Forty News. Phil is a 14-year Timnath resident who is finally using his West Virginia University journalism degree after getting sidetracked 51 years ago. The views expressed herein are Phil’s only. Contact him with comments on the column at [email protected].